Dream Catch Me
by ChasingRainbows90
Summary: Jac / Jonny fic centred around her pregnancy. The summaries pretty rubbish but no idea how to sum it up (2 parter)
1. Chapter 1

**This was meant to be a one-shot and then the one shot got to 5,500 words and I wasn't even remotely done with it (given I've already written the end so know where it ends up) I thought that maybe it would be better split across two parts. So this is part one of the one-shot (ok two parter) and part two should hopefully be up later. **

"And how's my bonnie wee bump this morning?" Jonny grinned as he placed his hands against his (sort of) girlfriend's rounded abdomen. He watched as her eyes darted about the ward, checking to see who was witnessing this spectacle – even now her bump was so very obvious, she still hated attention being drawn to it. It wasn't that she wasn't happy about her pregnancy, indeed she had grown to love the being which dwelled within her swollen uterus, but she disliked how the enlarged abdomen it caused seemed to automatically become public property and the subject of conversations such as guess the gender, birthdate and birth weight. She was very much aware of a sweepstake about the hospital on whether the baby would be born with numbers imprinted on it's forehead; supposedly the current favourite was it would be marked with 333 – because it was only half evil and therefore wouldn't require the full on 666.

"This" she indicated her stomach with a sweeping gesture having ascertained that nobody else was around, although she had a suspicion that Mo was lurking nearby, "is another but 'wee', and I have told you we are not calling the child Bonnie no matter how often you use that name to the bump and finally if you've failed to notice the bump is attached to me and despite you're input in creating this, you do not have ownership of the bump" he tried to hide his expression, though he knew it was futile. It was a discussion they seemed to have on a fairly regular basis, though it was occasionally replaced by the talk on how he was not paying enough attention – or being affectionate enough - to the child he'd helped create depending on the way her hormonal imbalance was swinging. He'd come to learn that conversation tended to happen in the quiet of her office, or on the days they had spent together outside of work.

"Still think Bonnie Maconie has a nice ring to it" Once again he grins at her, watching as she rolls her eyes.

"But unfortunately Bonnie Naylor makes her sound like some sort of happy whore" is the retorted the follows. He's quite impressed that she has come up with something new in response to his naming – albeit joke naming – suggestion.

"A name and her future career sorted in one fell swoop" his eyes are sparkling and in spite of herself she finds herself laughing at him. It's a sound that brings a more natural smile to his lips rather than the much more forced grin he had been wearing.

"You're an idiot Maconie" through her laughter she manages to force out the words. It is these moments that he enjoys most, the ones where she seems to be genuinely happy. Those moments are often scarce and so he has learnt to treasure them, trying to bring them about whenever he can – though he has to admit the child within her has been far more successful than he. He smiles at the thought of it, a memory flickering in to his mind.

_She's 18 weeks, the soft rounding of her abdomen so much more noticeable but still disguisable under less tightly fitting scrubs and tunics. It is still very much a secret within the confines of the hospital, or at least it is as far as Jac is concerned. He is well aware of the speculation, the whispered words and the glances. There are a select few who know – their respective best friends and the boss she had been forced in to a sense of camaraderie with. He knows they are trying to keep the secret, though their attempts are often half-hearted knowing how much easier it would be when it is known, knowing – in the case of the best friend – how much he wants it to be known. _

_The pair of them are working together, a patient on the ward who is causing no end of trouble but not because of their medical condition but because of the inane demands they seem determined to make. He knows she is losing patience with him, the fuse lit and burning quickly. He fears the explosion – knows their colleagues are preparing to duck for cover because the outbursts of their boss have reached a legendary status. _

_He hears the bell ring out, and without even looking at the panel he knows which patient is calling. He sees it in her face, that she too knows. He notes the tension in her body and that worries him. He hates to think of her under any unnecessary stress, when he knows she'll let him do so little to help despite his attempts. _

_He watches as she stands, movements slightly cautious because the change in her centre of gravity has a habit of knocking her off balance if she shifts from sitting to standing too quickly. He has had to steady her on numerous occasions, arms snaking around her body knowing that as soon as she has regained her balance she will push him away, that she will become self-conscious that people had seen a moment of weakness, of her needing support. _

_She walks away from him and he moves the chair, sliding in the desk area so that he has a view of her and the patient, to monitor them even for 'afar'. He knows if he had gone with her, she would have complained at him, though he is certain secretly that is very much an act. _

_He watches as the patient talks to her, hands gesticulating as he makes yet another request. He cannot hear what. He isn't sure that it matters. He can see her in profile, her mouth moves and again he can hear no words. Her expression tells him that she in unimpressed, that she is trying hard to control herself in front of the patient though she is struggling. _

_And then he finds himself pushing himself up from the desk in a quick motion, watching as her hand shoots to her abdomen, a look of momentary confusion on her face. He has heard nothing of the conversation but he hears the soft gasp that escapes her lips. _

_He moves to her side, and sees her reaction again. Panic chases through him, but it is halted by the way her lips start to twist upwards. The very beginnings of a smile. She shoots a glance at the patient before she grabs the sleeve of his tunic top, pulling him through the rear door of the bay out in to the thankfully clear corridor. For once the skeleton weekend staff a blessing rather than a curse. _

"_Jac?" he whispers her name, confused by this, scared and yet filled with an emotion he cannot name but which he is sure isn't negative. She closes her eyes for the briefest of seconds, as if preparing herself for something, an action which isn't going to come naturally. Opening them, she takes hold of his hand, pressing it to her abdomen._

"_A kick" it's a whispered response. Her smile broadens now as she feels it once again, the first movement she can definitely attribute to her child rather than the beats of a butterflies wing that she has herself is little more than gas rather than the baby. But this, this is real. _

_He smiles in response though he cannot quite feel what she can, still he doesn't want to destroy the moment and her happiness in it. He thinks that maybe he can see a glistening in her eyes but he doesn't push his luck and query it. Instead he stands, enjoying this moment of being connected with her and their child – hoping that there will be more to come. _

He is drawn out of his daydream by the flicking of a finger against his arm. He rubs at the spot with his free hand and looks in to the disgruntled face of Jac.

"This child is pressing on my bladder and you are in my way – move" she doesn't mince her words and knowing that she has at the very least roused him – even if she did so by inflicting pain – rather than forcing his chair away from hers, he pushes his chair backwards without question or comment. He watches as she heaves herself upwards, using a hand placed on the desk for leverage. "You comment or laugh, you die" she hisses at him, as he watches the movement.

"I wouldn't dare" he responds dutifully, though he knows this is very much a lie. That he has watched her with amusement as she developed the waddling gait and seen how she has had to adjust how she performs certain activities due to the changing shape of her body. Still he has watched with wonder, knowing that the cause of the change is their child.

She doesn't even dignify this with a response; instead she makes her way as quickly as she can in the direction of the ladies. He watches as his best friend approaches the desk, he has no idea where she has appeared from but he gets the distinct impression that she has been hovering nearby. Darwin for some reason is going through a rather civilised spell.

"You two seem to be friendly today" the grin on her face, confirms to him that Mo has been watching them. He knows his colleague is bored, that he has been neglecting her more than a little bit but then he thinks she has things in her own life to keep her occupied.

"But for how long is anyone's guess" it's the sad truth. So many moments have led to an increased hope of reconciliation between them but these are often dashed soon after. The current status in his mind is that they are together, but it is rather tenuous and he finds himself at her mercy as to how much involvement he is allowed at any one time, knowing that it could change a split second later.

"These things take time" he knows she is speaking the truth, but he worries that time is of the essence. He knows that all of this has been overwhelming for Jac; that she has had to learn to trust him and to let him in. He knows that at times he has suffocated her with his concerns, but he thinks he knows it pained her when he tried to give her space – despite the fact it had killed him to do so. He has come to know how much she needs him, and how that scares her.

_She is twenty one weeks. Last week they had their anomaly scan and to his relief everything had seemed normal. They had debated beforehand finding out the gender of the child. She wanted to know, he less so. He wanted the surprise, the moment when he would discover the child's gender at birth. She had teased him, saying the surprise wouldn't be that great; the options limited to male or female. The child it seemed was on its father's side and while it had allowed the sonographer to study each area that needed to be checked, it had kept its modesty hidden from view. _

_He is aware that her presence on the ward is lesser today. He has seen little of her beyond the brief time she'd spent doing her ward round before she had disappeared off. He knows something is up with her, but he cannot tell what. She has closed off again, suddenly wary of him once more. _

_He can hear others asking after her; hears various answers from she has an appointment somewhere (said with a sly wink because the 'secret' is still supposedly secret) to she is hiding in the supply cupboard with her stash of biscuits. He knows the latter could very well be true. What had once been the place of their stolen moments of passion had become the place where she disappeared to hide the fact she was eating for octuplets rather than the singleton she carried. How she had not put on more weight was beyond him. _

_He walks towards her shared office, thinking that is the first place to try looking for her. He is concerned, worried. He doesn't bother knocking, just opens the door and walks in. She will moan at him for doing so but it is something that has never bothered him. _

_Only she doesn't say anything when she sees him and that causes his heart rate to increase. He takes her in, the way her eyes shine and the wild panic within them. She is clutching in her hand something he doesn't recognise, though he notes the ear buds sit in her ears like her stethoscope. _

"_I can't find it" the words torn from her throat in a sob, as she fails to keep back what scares her most. She presses the end of whatever she has against her swollen abdomen, and he watches as a wave of fresh tears roll down her cheeks as she does so. _

_He comes towards her, panicked even more. Feels tears fill his own eyes though he cannot let them show, he has to be strong for her in this moment. He kneels in front of her and gently takes the object from her, removing it from her ears. The trumpet at the end looks like the pinard he has seen the midwife use. Only this one is attached to a stethoscope. He wonders why she has one, knowing it is not something she would have owned previously. He guesses she has bought it to monitor her baby, terrified that each day will be the day she loses it. _

"_I can't find the heartbeat" there is such desperation in her tone, and yet there is something deeper within it that tells him this is expected. That she had known this would happen. He wonders how long she has been trying, sitting here with this object holding it to herself and trying to find a heartbeat she cannot seem to locate. He thinks that the longer she failed, the harder it would have been to hear. _

_He starts to place the ear buds in his own ears, until he feels her hand on his arm, halting his actions. There is so much sadness and pain in her eyes, backed up with a hopelessness. _

"_There's no point" there's a hitch in her words, as she tries to regain her sense of control. It is futile. She wants nothing more than to curl up in a ball and to push out the world, to envelope herself in blackness until there is nothing left. He places his free hand on hers for the briefest of moments. _

"_Let me try" wordlessly she removes her hand from his arm. She allows him to take over, almost relieved he is here. That he can take away the what if, that he can confirm what she knows. She watches as he places the plastic trumpet against her, brow furrowed in concentration. _

_He moves it slightly, he listens carefully trying to distinguish sounds. He has to be confident in what he hears, he cannot give her false hope but he cannot destroy what little she has left either; not without certainty. He pauses, mind ticking over as he tries to make sense of things. He counts, numbers building in his mind as his eyes glancing down to his fob watch. Corners of his mouth twitch. _

"_Strong and steady" the words come now, joined by the smile on his lips. He looks up at her, doubt still colouring her face. Holding the trumpet steady with one hand, he pulls the buds from his ears passing them in to her hands. He notes how they shake, how unsteadily she takes it and the reluctance with which she places them in her ears. It's almost as if she expects to hear nothing, that his words were a cruel trick. And then he watches as her expression changes. More tears fall but they join with a watery smile. She sobs with the relief, body shaking still. He shifts drawing her body in to his arms, awkwardly still holding the trumpets against her, not wanting to remove the sound from her ears. He hold her, them, in his arms. Wishing he could hold and protect them for a lifetime. _

"Earth to Maconie" he is drawn out of the memory by the sound of her voice. She had returned from her toilet break and he looks at her. She looks paler than normal, bags forming under her eyes. He knows she is exhausted but she doesn't want to admit that she cannot quite keep up with her non-pregnant self and so she pushes herself too hard. "What planet are you on today?" she asks, taking in the still slightly dreamy look in his eyes. She glances up at Mo who is still leaning against the desk, an expression of amusement on her face.

"Just thinking" he sees a look pass between the two women but neither makes any comment and he makes no complaint about it. They have become closer over the months of her pregnancy. He isn't quite sure he would classify it as a friendship; in many ways it is more than that but in others so very far from it. Still it reassures him that they have become closer, that she has someone beyond him to look out for her. Certainly she has her own best friend – Sacha –but he has so very much going on himself.

"Take it easier there Jonny-mac, don't want to over work that poor brain of yours" is Mo's gently teasing response. He smiles at her, flicking his middle finger in jest and watching as mock hurt passes over her face before she laughs at him.

"His wee brain could do with the workout" the consultant adds the words with a grin, using a mock of his accent on the words wee brain that draws more laughter from the registrar. She enjoys these moments, when the tension is less between them; when they are act like a normal couple. She knows the complexity of their situation, but she wishes they could see the simplicity of their true feelings. She has tried in her own way to push them together, tried to engineer moments and tried to plant seeds in their minds. They are close, she feels, to finally getting to the point of togetherness.

"Why do I put up with you two?" there is faked seriousness in his tone, a vague sense of hurt and wounded pride. He forces his expression in to one resembling a wounded, abandoned animal left behind in a cold kennel cell. He knows it is a pitiful look, and one he can only keep up for so long before he is forced to laugh.

"Poor wee Jonny Maconie" it is mock concern from Jac, a lilting lullaby tone to her voice as she almost sings the words, "The saddest little nursie in all of Holby" she almost sings the words as she places a hand on his arm, petting him as she would a dog. He cannot hold his laughter now and gives in to it. The two women joining in soon after.

He watches as Jac stifles as yawn, tries to hide the fact she is wearying and that she is glancing at the watch pinned to his chest; that she is disappointed to find there are still so many hours left of her chest.

"You ok Jac?" it is Mo who gets in there first asking the question as she watches the consultant for a moment close her eyes.

"Just tired" the answer comes wearily, a voice quiet. Jonny wonders if really she should be here, knows that the board have tried to persuade her to take leave because of how she struggles. Only she takes offense to this, claiming she is no less competent just because her due date is rapidly approach and they have, for now, left her be.

"Take a rest" Mo advises, looking towards the on-call room. Jonny nods his agreement. His overwhelming desire to look after them taking over. He is still sure there is so much she doesn't tell him, that she won't tell him and so he has to guess and now he has decided that she needs sleep.

"I'm fine" but there is no honesty in her words. He can read it clearly, how she is lying. She lies so very often, those words the most common.

"Take a quick nap in the on-call room, no-one'll notice" he sees the conflict in her face. Her desire to rest against her desire to prove herself. But he has told her time and again she has nothing to prove to him. He realises she won't go and so he decides to try a different tact, he gives her a smile, "I hear Elliot has been hiding his snacks in there to stop you sniffing them out" he sees the curiousity in her eyes. Food having become such a part of her life over these months, in fact today is the longest he has seen her go without eating in a long while.

"I could just go have a peek" she twists her lips, he knows she's interested; he knows too that it is a lie. Elliot had long since abandoned that hiding place in favour of somewhere even Jonny wasn't sure of. He watches as Jac stands slowly and slips away in search of the hidden treasure. He's sure the lure of the bed will get her before the search even begins.

Part of him wishes she would admit defeat and take her maternity leave, but watching her go the other part is relieved he can keep an eye on her here. Another memory flits in to his mind.

_She is 32 weeks now. Her bump larger and much more obvious. No longer is it a secret, though no formal announcement has taken place. It is just known and accepted. There is no way of hiding it any longer. _

_He has finished a shift and found on his phone messages demanding that food be bought to her. A list of things that once she never would have touched but that now she devours. He has learnt on the days he delivers food that it is not for sharing – that the slipping of a chip from her pile and in to his mouth will result in his hand being slapped and a barrage of abuse aimed in his direction. She is protective of her food – though she sees no issue with taking that which belongs to others. _

_He makes his way to her flat, lets himself in with the key that she gave him. He was surprised when she presented it to him, she had been so natural as if it was just a small insignificant thing when really it had meant the world to him. It meant that things were improving, that he had access to her personal space though he knew enough not to abuse that privilege. _

_He is surprised to find she is not lounging on the sofa, eating or waiting for the food which he will bring. That is how he is used to finding her. He thinks he hears noise coming from the box room she had previously used as a study but which she had decided would work for a nursery until she decides on somewhere bigger to live. _

_He makes his way to the room, placing the food down on a counter as he goes, before he finds himself frozen in the doorway at the sight of her pregnant form balancing a little haphazardly on a little ladder trying to put curtains over the window. If he wasn't so panicked, he thinks he would find the sight amusing. The way she is holding fabric adorned with childish pictures, trying to get it up and failing. _

"_What on earth are you doing?" he speaks more sharply than indeed and watches as she turns on the ladder, balance lost in an instant and he finds himself crossing the room in record time in order to catch her. _

"_What was that for?" the words are shouted once she is steady on solid ground. He watches her, the way she rubs at her bump, the way her face is crossed with annoyance at the disruption._

"_Oh I don't know Jac, maybe the fact you were rather precariously up a ladder while heavily pregnant" the words are sarcastic and he watches as she rolls her eyes at him, for a moment glancing at her bump and then back at the ladder. _

"_I was perfectly safe" he looks about the room, unable to quite comprehend her argument. She has done so little over the past few months that is even remotely dangerous and yet he finds her here on the ladder, seemingly unaware of the risks it poses. But as he looks about he realises, the other things she has done here, the heavy items she has attempted to move on her own. _

"_Why couldn't you just wait for me?" it seems reasonable to him that she could have waited. He would have done these things for her, for their baby. She could have relished her role as dictator, bossing him around and complaining he was doing it wrong even when her instructions were followed to the letter. _

"_I am not an invalid!" she shouts the words, hands having moved to her hips and away from her rounded abdomen. He can see the anger and frustration in her face, the internal struggles she faces. _

"_I didn't say that" he wants to reason with her, to calm her; knows this isn't good for her or the baby but he can see that this has been building in her for some time. _

"_You implied it – just like everyone else" flashing eyes stare back at him, but he is not sure who she is angry at; he thinks perhaps it is aimed primarily at herself but she has displaced it on to those around her. He the unfortunate one who is here right now taking the brunt of her anger. _

"_You're 32 weeks pregnant Jac, you're allowed to take things easy" he keeps his voice steady, not wanting to rise to her bait; to inflame her all the more. Only he knows that his calmness can have the same effect as matching her in tone and emotion. She is unpredictable – even without the addition of hormones – and that scares him just as much as it intrigues him. _

"_Allowed?! You allow me to take it easy – or is that an order?" he wishes he understood how her mind worked, how she took words and twisted them. How her mind twisted things to make life harder for her, he wished she would let him help her fight against it; only she is trapped within it. _

"_Stop" it's a command and as soon as it slips from his mouth, he realises his mistake. Sees the way it riles her all the more. _

"_You think just because I am carrying your child that you have the right to order me about" the words are spat at him, he can see everything coming to a head inside of her. He knows that one wrong move on his part and he could lose her – and the baby – for good. _

"_Jac, listen to me, I'm only trying to help you" he has to sound calm, to not show how he is feeling because he knows she'll feed on that, knows it'll be used against him until he has no choice but to react. She is watching him carefully._

"_By telling me what I can and can't do – all that matters to you is this" she indicates her bump. He frowns, wondering how she has come up with this conclusion. _

"_You know that's not true, Jac, you know how I feel about you" He looks her in the eyes, trying to show her his feelings without saying the words. He cannot say them like this, knows if he does they'll be taken the wrong way and thrown back in his face. She blinks._

"_You're a liar – that's what you told me once; that you're a compulsive liar so why should I believe you?" her words are panicked and fearful, but that is hidden behind the anger. She is desperate and scared but she cannot bring herself to show it, so instead she chooses the blind anger. _

"_Because you know it's the truth" she is shaking now, and he is worried all the more. This isn't good for her, for either of them and yet he is powerless to stop it. He doesn't know how, the right words to use or the action to take. _

"_I don't" the words tear from her lips and she has to turn from him. He wants to reach out and touch her, but he cannot bring himself too. He doesn't trust how she'll react to it in this state. _

"_What do you want me to do Jac - Shout that I love you from the rooftops, put an announcement in the Holby gazette?" he wishes she would give him an answer, to tell him to action to be taken. _

"_I want you to leave" she turns back to him, eyes hardened, face set in stone. _

"_Why?" he doesn't understand, doesn't get why she has turned again and yet he has been expecting it. _

"_What if I told you you're not the father would you go then? Prove that your only here with me because you have been stupid enough to think you fathered my child. Prove that you couldn't be stupid enough to love someone like me, stupid enough to think that someone like me could love you back" the words are spat, filled with venom designed to fill him with the poison that courses through her veins in that moment. She laughs a wicked laugh, though it sounds hollow to his ears. _

"_Why do you find it so hard to believe that I could love you, that I want to look after you?" he questions her gently, trying to ignore the feeling inside of him, the desire to shrink in to the floor, the sudden fear that this child he has started to love may not be his. _

"_Because why would you want too – I don't need looking after; I can do this on my own. I can cope like I've coped my entire life. I don't need you to command me, to order me and change me. I don't need your false love and empty sentiments. I don't need you" she pauses, watching him and his reaction. Knowing how close she is, knows the final blow to deliver, "we don't need you" she places a hand over her bump watches as his eyes change. _

"_Jac" he whispers her name, but she says nothing. Just watches him with those cold, hardened eyes and he knows. He turns and walks from the room, heart beating hard, tears sting his eyes. He blocks everything out, doesn't hear the way her body slumps down against the wall of the soon to be nursery or the way sobs start to tear from her body. _

_He's in a daze until he gets back to his shoebox flat and sees the flashing light on the answer machine. He presses the button, preparing to hear a message from Mo inviting him out for a drink only the sound that fills the room is the heart wrenching sobs of the woman he has left. _

"_I'm sorry" the words fill the flat. Just before the tape cuts of he thinks he hears three whispered words 'I was scared' but he isn't sure. Finally he allows himself to break down as he tries to work out what has happened and how he can even attempt to fix it. _

He shocks himself back to the present day, remembering that night. How he had tried to right himself and how things had seemed so desperate until at some ridiculous hour of the morning he had been awakened by the sound of his doorbell being pressed repeatedly and found her standing there shivering. She had broken down in his arms, talking of her past and of what she feared most. It was in that moment he'd agreed to support her to work until she could work no longer knowing the loss of that could very well tip her over the edge. He had cursed himself for not spotting the warning signs in her and now he was doing so again. Failing to see things that were in front of him.

He stands slowly, noticing that Mo has left him, obviously bored by his lack of social skills today. He walks towards the on-call room, though he is not sure quite what possesses him. He slips inside and smiles at the sight of her, she is sleeping and looks almost peaceful lying there with her hair splayed out over the pillow and her arms wrapped protectively around her bump.

_36 weeks and they are so very close to the end now. She is sitting next to him on her sofa, the television playing but neither of them are watching. Both are wrapped up in their own thoughts, their fears for the next day and the scan they have to attend. _

"_It'll be nice to see the baby again" he places a hand on her rounded stomach and smiles. He knows he is trying to come up with positives, to try to push away the fears they both have. She rests her hand on top of his. _

"_and hopefully the next time, she'll be in my arms" there is a wistfulness to her voice as she says those words. She has been trying to imagine the moment for so long and yet somehow she cannot. It is the moment she has been waiting for but try as she might she can't conjure in her mind how it'll play out. _

"_Or he" is the response but like her, he is almost certain that the baby is a girl. She rolls her eyes at that but she smiles at him. She never did tell him about the scan she did on herself one quiet nightshift, unable to resist not knowing any longer, "if she doesn't play ball, it'll be alright" he whispers the reassurance._

"_She's cephalic" she looks at him with bright eyes. Their baby had been breech for so long, tomorrow they would check if it had turned otherwise it would be the offer of an ECV or a c-section having been advised that, in her case, a vaginal breech delivery wasn't in their best interests. _

"_Please don't tell me you've been scanning yourself again" he scolds her lightly, gently knowing that he has to tread carefully. He sees the smile waver for a second before again she rolls her eyes, though she is a little surprised that he has guessed her secret. _

"_No need for scanning" she tells him, moving his hand from her abdomen and lifting her top revealing the taunt skin, paved with stretch marks. She takes hold of his hand placing hers over the top of it and guides his fingers, pressing them against the skin. She watches as he smiles, feeling the shape of their baby's body beneath his fingers. It is one of the few times she has let him touch the naked skin of her bump._

"_No need for scanning" he confirms with a smile, as he hand hovers over his above her pelvis, the shape of their baby's head evident beneath their hands. _

He smiles at the memory, of the closeness he had felt to her that night. He settles himself down on the edge of the bed, still watching her. Officially they aren't living together, but unofficially he spends most nights camped out on her sofa. She claims that she likes having him nearby, that it makes her panic less though he knows at times it worries her more.

_The way she calls for him, startles him in to wakefulness. She is 37 weeks. She is term. His body is stiff from her sofa, and he is not sure how many more nights he can cope with this. But he does it for her, for the both of them. She calls again, and he moves from his resting place to her bedroom. Finds her sitting up, wild panic in her eyes as she tries to control her breathing. _

"_Jac?" her panic, panics him and a chain of thoughts chase around his head. So many implausible theories mixed in with the sensible. So many things could be happening and yet the most logical, is the one that he stumbles past and ignores because it is too early. He comes to a halt by her side and is left grimacing as she grips hold of his wrist and squeezes tightly, a moan escaping from her lips as she does. Finally her grip lessens and she releases him, he sits down on the bed in front of her. "Is it time?" he asks, watching her. _

"_I don't think so" she whispers in response, "it's Braxton hicks but" she can't quite form the words, but he nods his understanding. _

"_Do you want me to stay in here tonight, on the floor obviously?" she closes her eyes, for a second, opens them to find him rubbing at his spine. _

"_The bed'll be fine, it's big enough" he senses the hidden meaning, knows enough not to acknowledge it. Instead he whispers his thanks, acting like it is for him and his back rather than for her and her need for comfort. _

It has been just under a week since that night. Some nights he has ended up curled up with her in her bed, others he has stayed on the sofa. He smiles. So much has changed, and yet so much has stayed the same.

He doesn't realise that she has woken, that she is watching the way he watches her, the emotion in his eyes revealing the truth of his feelings. She shifts, grimacing a little as her abdomen twinges, a slight moan escaping her lips. She watches as his gaze shifts up to her face, registering that she is now awake.

"You ok?" he whispers, watching as the grimace leaves her face.

"Just a twinge" she answers, trying to force a smile on to her face. Hoping she is right in her assessment. A niggling doubt telling her otherwise.


	2. Chapter 2

**I apologise in advance if any of the medical accuracy is wrong - I did try to keep it correct (and probably bugged some midwives in the process). Anyway I hope this is ok - and thank you to anyone who reads. **

She emerges back out on to the ward, trying to look like nothing is fazing her, only she is getting more aware of the ache in her spine that doesn't seem to want to shift and the way her abdomen keeps twinging. She makes her way over to the desk, where Jonny and Mo appear to be deep in conversation, though based on the laughter that keeps escaping their mouths she is near certain they are not discussing patients or even work. She comes to a rest by the desk, leaning on it slightly as the tightening returns.

"You ok?" Jonny voice is soft, and in many ways she appreciates the concern but this is too early and besides which she is almost certain that this isn't how the many event is supposed to feel. These tightenings are more like the Braxton hicks that tend to awaken her at night, only they are abating less quickly.

"You try being 38 weeks pregnant" the answer comes out harsh but she cannot help it, trying to control her breathing until her muscles relax. She looks to Mo, knowing that the registrar has been here and will hopefully back her up.

"You could always pop down to maternity to get checked over; make sure it is just being 38 weeks pregnant" Jac scowls at her colleague, annoyed that the look she gave her hadn't worked and Mo had gone with the more logical advice that Jac didn't want.

"Well thanks for nothing Maureen" She growls the words and sees the smile that Mo gives her in response, the smile that tells her that the advice may not be want she wants to here but it is what she needs to do. It's a smile that says I've been here, trust me. Only Jac doesn't quite see it that way.

"You're welcome" the words go with the smile, and Jac is more than tempted to flick her middle finger in Mo's direction, but she is struck once again by a pain in her abdomen only this time it is different. There is more of a squeezing, the muscles contracting together causing her abdomen to become tight and hard as she leans against the desk and tries to control her breathing. When it passes, she straightens back up and tries to act like nothing has happened.

"Trip to maternity it is" Jonny tries to sound brighter than he feels, tries to ignore the way his heart hammers in his chest at impending fatherhood. Everything from the last 38 weeks seems to press down upon him – the stress, the worry, the excitement and the anticipation mixed with the adrenaline that has started to course through his veins.

"And leave Darwin to fend for itself" Jac sighs, resting a hand against her abdomen, "it's one contraction, probably not even a contraction and all they'll do is send me home to 'rest', telling me to come back later if the contractions pick up so I may as well stay here and be off some use" she sees the look pass between the two of them; knows full well what they are thinking.

"Jac" it's Mo that issues her the low warning, there are no more words needed. Jac understands what she's saying but she doesn't want too. Instead she fixes Mo with a stern look.

"I seem to remember you weren't in any hurry to wander down to the baby factory" Mo rolls her eyes at the comment. She had been wondering how long it would take to get to that point, for that to brought up. Only the situation is so incredibly different.

"You know I had my reasons" Jac thinks now of how she had felt that day, as she had held the baby in her arms and tried to persuade the registrar to see the baby even if it was just for a moment. She can bring that image easily to her mind and yet she cannot imagine herself in the bed, holding her child or even Jonny standing nearby cradling the newborn.

"And I have mine" the words come at a whisper, filled with a fear she doesn't want to admit to and a truth she is scared to accept. She sees the way Jonny looks up at her, the confusion on his face as he takes heed of the words, realises there is something being kept back from him. Only watching him, she thinks he already knew that there was something she was keeping hidden.

"Jac" he says her name so gently, only she doesn't hear if any more words follow. She finds herself once more leaning heavily in to the desk, tears springing in to her eyes as she tries to ignore that pain that courses through her. She forces herself to concentrate on her breathing, tries to remember the things the midwife had said in the classes that Jonny had dragged her too. The classes she had sat through with disinterest, because she had pointed out to those around her 'she's a consultant who knows what she's doing'. Only now she's feeling more unsure of herself. As the pain passes, she looks up in to two concerned faces.

"I am absolutely fine" she murmurs though she feels anything but. Her stomach is churning violently, and she wishes she hadn't found some of Elliot's secret stash before she'd had her sleep. She wishes she'd paid attention to the fact she'd been feeling off colour for most of the day, and realised that eating wasn't her best idea.

She gags, panicking that she'll end up throwing up over the nurse, the registrar or both while simultaneously making a mess of her clean ward and creating something of a spectacle for patients and staff to enjoy. Not that there's many patients around but even so. Decided that the safer option is escaping but no convinced she'll make it as far as the ladies, Jac dashes - or as much as she can dash - in the direction of the dirty utility.

She just makes it before she brings up the contents of her stomach in to the sink, thankfully the one with the flush attachment. She heaves violently as yet another contraction decides to batter her body. She leans against the cool metal, knowing she has nothing left to bring up though her body still tries. When finally it seems to pass, she hits the flush on the wall and closes her eyes.

"You look dreadful" it's an assessment which Jonny gives her from his position in the doorway to the sluice, Mo appearing over his shoulder appearing to nod his agreement. Jac rolls her eyes at them, thankful that they seem to have found some amusement in this situation.

"Well I am so pleased you felt the need to share that with me" her voice is deadpan, and she watches as he tries to force himself not to smile. She knows how very hard it is for him, and she makes it all the harder by raising one eyebrow and giving him a look he has come to know so very well.

"I'm taking you down to maternity – you know that right?" he switches tact and she nods a little. She isn't ready for this but she knows she has little choice. Having the baby on Darwin is not in her best interests, there is little here of use – no CTG machine, no resuscitaire should it be needed and yet it is here where she feels safest. If she could she would stay here, in the place where she is confident, where she has power.

"I don't need to go yet" she whispers the words, knows that they are at odds with the nod of her head but it doesn't matter. She is past the point of logic now. She sees Mo place a hand on Jonny's arm, pushing him slightly away from the sluice.

"Jac's maternity bag is under her desk" the registrar informs him, and Jac cannot help but wonder how she knows this. She had thought she'd kept it well hidden, the fact the bag had been stored here ready rather than in her flat, "go and grab it and we'll head down to maternity. Tell Elliot the reinforcements are needed, he'll understand"

"I don't understand" the consultant stutters the word as she watches the nurse disappear from view, she sees the registrar step closer to her.

"You don't think we prepared for this - you going in the labour on the ward?" the registrar shakes her head as she thinks of the plans Elliot had made, knowing full well how this would pan out, "so want to explain your reluctance to going down to maternity?" an arm snakes around Jac's waist guiding her out on to the ward, to where a wheelchair waits for her. Jac balks a little at the sight of it.

"I'm barely contracting 2 in 10, it's not worth going" it's a feeble excuse and Jac knows it. Knows too that it is probably a lie as she feels another contraction building, feels herself lean against the registrars body as her own tightens and tenses.

"No it's more like 3 in 10" is the response when the registrar feels her boss' body relax slightly, "so want to try to answer again?" she adds, wondering what excuse will be offered to her this time.

"I'm not ready" again it's feeble, but it is altogether closer to the truth. Still she holds fast refusing to move closer to the wheelchair.

"You may not be, but Bonnie here is" the use of the nickname earns her a scowl and Mo smiles good naturedly at the consultant, "if you don't use the chair, me and Jonny'll carry you done and don't think we won't stop off on all the wards for a flying visit" she is joking but she sees the momentary look of panic flit across Jac's face at the very idea of it and Mo sighs, "I am of course kidding but Jac, we need to get you down there"

"My waters haven't even gone" words Mo had once used, and which bring a smile to her face as she remembers. She fixes Jac with what she hopes is a stern look.

"And remember how far that excuse got me" there's a flicker of recognition on Jac's face as she too remembers, it stays there until once again her body doubles over in to a contraction and she has to force herself to concentrate all of her brain power on breathing and not screaming the ward down. When it passes she feels herself being moved and pushed in to the wheelchair by Mo, and she finds herself unable to resist.

"I'm scared" the consultant admits finally, looking up at her colleague – her friend – with fearful eyes as she prepares to say words that have haunted her for the last few days but which she has kept locked within her heart, "she's been quieter the last couple of days and I'm scared something's wrong, that we'll get down there and they'll tell me something is wrong with my baby"

"Oh Jac" the words are whispered, ever so gently as she tries to imagine how the consultant has to have been feeling, how scared. It saddens here that she hadn't felt able to talk to her, or to Jonny. She thinks of her best friend, how hopeful and happy he has been these last few days. How destroyed he would have been to think anything was wrong, but how he would have rushed her down to maternity to be checked over. He had once done the same for her. She remembered so clearly his panic but even more so his strength. He would have done the same for her if only she had trusted him.

They hear footsteps approaching before they see him, and look passed between the two women confirms that they will not pass on the fears to him. They see the look in his eyes, the mix of emotions.

The three of them make their way to maternity, Jac groaning as the contractions seem to pick up pace, their intensity increasing making it all the more harder for her to just breathe through them. She clutches hold of his hand, as she walks beside the chair being pushed by Mo. She knows based on the whimpers he emits that the strength in her grip is causing him pain, though it is nothing compared to what Jac is experiencing.

In maternity it is left to Mo to talk to the midwife on the triage desk, to explain that her friend is labouring, that she's 38 weeks and that she is contracting at least 3 in 10. Mo explains this easily and with clarity and watches as the midwife takes notes, smiles and nods and directs her to sit in the waiting room while she sorts a room and which midwife will be allocated Jac's care.

The three sit there, together. Jac in her wheelchair, whimpering and groaning with each contraction that seems destined to split her body in to and yet never quite seems to manage it. She is near certain this child is setting out to break her, to kill her, though she does not understand why. She has done everything for this child and yet this is the repayment she receives. Still she tries to reassure herself it will be worth it in the end. They sit and wait, unsure of how much time passes. They sit in near silence, Jac having shouted at them when they attempted an inane conversation to keep the boredom at bay.

"I need to push" the words come in desperation as Jac feels the change in pressure in her pelvis, her body trying to push as the next contraction takes over though she tries to force herself not to give it to it, to hold the baby within her. She cannot give birth in a waiting room. It is most definitely not a part of the plan and she knows the story would follow her around the hospital for years.

"Go and hurry them up" Mo hisses at Jonny, watching as he goes in the direction of the desk, she can see the stress in his eyes at the idea he could end up catching his own child in the waiting area. Mo looks at Jac.

"Try to relax ok" she tries to speak reassuringly offering her hands to be squeezed by the consultant when another contraction reaches its peak and she has to try so hard not to give in to the desire to push, to scream, to try to escape from this nightmare.

"Relax? This child is trying to kill me" the words are hissed when the contraction ebbs away, she knows there will only be a little respite before the next one arrives, ready to batter her once again. Mo, she thinks, should realise how slim the chances are of her relaxing, having gone through this herself.

Finally the midwife appears alongside Jonny. For the briefest of moments, the two women are grateful it is not the head of midwifery who had been there for the birth of William but rather a woman who introduces herself as Jayne and offers a warm smile before she leads them to one of the delivery rooms.

She helps the labouring woman on to the bed, waiting patiently as a contraction takes hold before she continues. She explains gently that she needs to examine her and process that leaves Jac swearing at the woman and Jonny apologising profusely for the language that she had used – though he was secretly rather impressed by her vocabulary of swear words and a creative flare in using them. The midwife asked whether Jac's waters had broken something that received a brief shake of the head, before she found herself groaning again in response to a contraction.

The midwife busies herself, trying to sort out the CTG monitor, tries to position it to find the fetal heartrate but finds herself for the moment unable.

"I need to push" the labouring woman sounds desperate, hands firmly holding those of her partner. A man who looks torn between pain, terror and excitement. He keeps making eye contact with the other woman, the one who whispers words of encouragement and tries to keep the pair calm. They are a team.

"If you feel the urge go with it" the midwife smiles as she speaks, though she notes that even though the woman appears to be pushing there is nothing visible. She whispers encouragement rather than stating something that may discourage the woman, instead she returns to trying to reposition the CTG transducer, finally hearing the thumping beat of a heart rate. Only it sounds quicker than she would have liked or expected. She looks to the monitor, and watches the number.

"That's a bit fast isn't it?" he feels his own heart rate quicken as he watches the number flickering in front of his eyes. He looks to Mo and sees it confirmed in her face, that this number is far from normal. A fetal tachycardia, though he has no clue why. He looks to the woman on the bed, hers is the only head not turned to the machine and the number which taunts them. He sees tears in her eyes though he doesn't understand why. He looks to Mo, sees that she took is now looking at Jac and has whispered something to her that he doesn't quite catch but which brings a watery smile to her lips.

"It is but the baby being squished can cause it to be raised" the midwife answers, trying to reduce the fears of the father though she knows from reading the notes that the three people with her are medical professionals. Two doctors and a nurse. She watches between the monitor and the labouring woman. Despite her pushing, nothing appears to be descending in to view and still the heart rate remains high though the machine keeps losing contact.

Jonny listens as the midwife tries to explain something about a scalp electrode that she wants to place on the baby to try to get a better monitoring of the heart rate. Between contractions he hears Jac give her consent along with permission for another examination, he feels her grip tighten on his hand as the midwife does this.

"Jac, I can break your waters which may hurry things along" Jayne offers the assistance, and the tiring doctor agrees. The midwife ruptures the membranes and watches in confusion as nothing drains away. She removes her gloved hands and feels her heart rate increase at the sight of the brown substance that covers it.

Jonny is the first to catch sight of the glove, and his panic increases. He looks to Mo and nods his head slightly in that direction to draw his friends attention without alerting Jac. He can see in the midwife's face that something is not as expected though she tries hard to cover it.

"I'm just going to call someone in to take a look at this" she says, trying to sound more confident, more relaxed than she is feeling. It's a tone that Jonny knows only too well. He has used it many times and he can see through it now.

The second midwife appears and Jonny watches as they talk, as the second seems to confirm what the first thought before she disappears back out of the room. The first midwifes seems a little more relaxed that her assessment is correct, but he is still panicked. He can see in Mo's face that she too is no longer as calm as she had been. And Jac, he looks to her. The contractions are now one on top of the other and she is struggling. She is squeezing his hand tightly, tears springing from her eyes as she tries to control her, tries to find the energy to push her body from her body. All the while she listens to the quick beat of the heart. She knows it is too quick but she tries to push that from her head, as she concentrates all her efforts on the process at hand.

"The head's visible" the midwife says the words, and Jonny feels his heart quicken again. It is so very close now. He leans down and places a kiss on Jac's forehead, whispers to her how he loves her and how proud he is off. He tells her she is beautiful and that she can do this and that soon, she will be the mother of his daughter. He looks to Mo and gives her a smile, before he glances up at the clock. 45 minutes they have been in this room.

"I need you to push now Jac" the midwife gives her the instruction and Jonny supports her body while she crushes his hand within hers. She hisses that she hates him when the contraction peaks, that she loves him when it ebbs away from a second. He kisses her again before the next contraction builds, knowing that this will be one of the last.

He braces himself, preparing for the moment when he will hear his daughter for the first time; the baby girl's cry heralding her arrival in to this world. He prepares himself, already feeling the tears prickling in his eyes, his anticipation rising by the millisecond. For so many weeks, he has waited for this moment, and now it is here and he wants to remember every last second. He watches the midwife, who with sure steady hands is poised to catch their baby ready to pass her up on to the waiting chest of her mother. He watches, as the woman's gaze moves between the advancing baby and the face of the labouring woman.

He watches as the midwife moves, slowly but surely. It's a well-practiced danced, one that varies with each woman but has been perfected over years of work. Hands move, and the groans of his partner change as she pushes free the child who she has carried for so many months. As the body slips free, he watches as she falls back against the pillow, face glistening with a sheen of sweat; eyes wide with exhaustion; a look of expectation.

He is waiting. Time seems to have slowed and the moment he had prepared for hasn't arrived. He wonders if his hearing has been lost, but he can hear the ticking of the clock. He sees now something change in her eyes, wild panic as she too realises something is missing from this moment. The thing they had expected to happen, hasn't.

He looks to his friend, the woman he trusts most. She is frozen. Eyes fixed on the midwife, eyes which shine though he forces himself not to realise why.

He turns to the midwife, still expecting the moment to come. But he sees in her face that it will not. The room will not be filled by the shocked cry of his newborn, pushed from the womb in to the world.

He sees the midwife's mouth move, forming words that he cannot let himself hear. Words that confirm what he knows but cannot believe. He wills the cry to come, to fill the four walls.

But it is not the cry that comes. It is a scream. A scream so primal, a sound barely human that is torn from her body as she realises the truth. It is a scream that echoes through the room, very probably echoes through the ward. It is a scream that will ring in his ears, for years to come, a sound never forgotten. It rips her in two, and tears at him shattering what is left of his heart.

And then there is a deafening silence.


End file.
